Wednesday, December 15, 2010

You couldn't make it up.

This very special blog entry has been guest edited by Richard Littlejohn.

Around this time of year, I like nothing more than visiting our local toyshop and buying a whole load of gifts to hand out to the needy. Once I've purchased a handful of toys from a carefully prepared list of goods made in the UK by good honest white workers, I drive around local schools and hand them out, much like a slightly racist Santa. For as the Bible tells us, Santa was indeed white - whatever the political correct johnny foreigner brigade would have you believe.

A school for the disabled has recently been opened in my town, but even in my wildest dreams I couldn't have prepared myself for what I found when I stepped inside the gates. Indeed, before I'd even stepped inside. Did I have to climb stairs to get in? Stairs, which, as we all know, were invented in England in 1921 by a good, honest Englishman? Nothing so straightforward. The children in this school (many of whom weren't even English) were so pampered they'd been provided with a ramp. A ramp paid for by you and me - Good, honest, English taxpayers.

A ramp that clearly states, and I'm telling the Gods honest truth, "For disabled use only". Oh, very good, Mister Habib or whoever it was that built it. We tax-payers can buy it, but we're not even allowed to use it? I had to use the stairs!

Inside it was no better. Most of the children (many of whom weren't even English) didn't even do me the honour of standing up when I entered the room. Most remained rudely sat in their chairs. Some of them didn't even seem to be awake - in the middle of a school day. Even as I was handing out the presents, some of them didn't even give me the decency of thanking me. Oh, a few of them acknowledged the gifts with a guttural barely understandable noise, but I ask you. Is that what our Country has come to? It's political correctness gone mad.

And I'm not one to bang on about how generous I am, although I am incredibly generous, but these were quality gifts too - Not any old foreign muck purchased from the Market. A Enoch Powell "Rivers of blood" Fuzzy Felt set, My Little Nick Griffin - All quality stuff made and paid for by a good, honest, English taxpayer.

As if this wasn't bad enough, out of the corner of my eye I noticed one of them get out of their chair to walk elsewhere in the room, get something and come back. Admittedly as soon as they'd seen I'd noticed them, they put on a pained expression, but by then it was too late. I've come to the simple conclusion that the majority of them are making it up. You couldn't make it up. Unless you were them. And then you would. But I haven't.

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In response to the concerns raised, we sought to contact Mr McIntyre to see whether he wished to make a complaint to the PCC. We have now received a formal complaint from Mr McIntyre, and we will take forward the complaint with him directly.

We will seek to inform you of the outcome of the matter in due course. Thank you for bringing this matter to our attention.